


Parallel

by PastelPens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mindfuck, Murder, Strong Female Characters, Suspense, romantic i swear, universe theory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPens/pseuds/PastelPens
Summary: "The theory of the multiverse states that there are infinite parallel universes containing every possible outcome and situation. I quite like that idea, you know? It makes me happy because I know that at least somewhere, you love me too."In which a girl takes the wrong tube and somehow ends up in 1977; newspaper reporters are after her, girls are going missing, and she suddenly has to replace the recently deceased Lily Evans.





	1. Rewind

_Hello! I just thought I would let everyone know that I've decided to re-do the first few chapters as I don't think they gel well enough like I wanted them to :) Some things will be different like Lilian's first impression, as well as how others act towards her._

* * *

The shop was dark, dotted sparingly with candles that burned and flickered as their wicks grew too close to the melted wax that pooled at the bottoms. This was the third night in a week that the power had been cut off, probably due to the raging lightning storms that had been filling London's grey skies more often than not. A flash of white light lit up the corner of the store, adding to the warm glow of the flashlight that was balanced in Lilian's hand. Her unevenly chewed fingernails tapped restlessly on the wooden floor, creating a steady beat that matched to the tune playing in her head. She sat with her back pressed firmly to the cold wall, facing the old semi-glass door that served as the main entrance. The sign hanging from the mid-section was swung to say Open to the general public, not that anybody would come in now with the place currently lacking electricity. Lilian readjusted the flashlight in her grip, and balanced her book on her left knee so she could turn the page.

"Back again, Harry?" She read out, unable to help herself. Her voice was croaky from the hours spent inside the store with nobody to talk to. It was only after the clock hit five did she allow herself to step down from the cashier and give up on working completely. Tired eyes skimmed over the words, soaking them into her mind before going to the next page, "It does not do to dwell on dreams."

Another flash of light thundered outside, closer than before which disturbed her long enough to notice just how dark it was. Frowning, she placed the flashlight and book next to her on the dusty floor before rummaging through her bag. The feeling of cool metal in her palm was the only incentive she needed to pull out her phone to check the time.

"Fuck," Lilian breathed, "I'm late."

It didn't take long to lock up the store, mainly blowing out the dangerously used tealight candles that would need to be replaced soon. The doorknob was cold and sapped some of the warmth from her fingertips as she twisted it. The bite of outside made her flinch as the wind made desperate grabs at her throat and any other bare flesh it could find. Pulling up her hood, she squared her shoulders and locked the door, dropping the key down the front of her top so that it got caught in her bra. It was a crude way of keeping it safe, she knew, but there was space and who would suspect it?

The street was empty, save for the cats that insisted on giving her heart attacks every time she turned a corner. Thunder rumbled through the dark clouds, making her speed up slightly. It wasn't raining yet surprisingly, the weather deciding to just throw down lightning strikes instead of water. The electricity had been blown out for all of the remaining stores and shops in the general area, employees resorting to candles like her. The dark roads were lined with small, yellow lights. It would have made a rather good picture, Lilian mused, if it weren't for the ominous feeling that had managed to bleed into the ambiance. Another corner turned, she spotted the sign for the tube and hustled towards it.

The dark atmosphere still didn't leave when she scanned her card, the lack of people beginning to sink in. Usually there would be more than just one person in the whole station. It was a known fact in her group of friends and family that she didn't like the dark. Licking her lips, she wrapped an arm around herself for comfort. Her body shivered as a current of anxiety travelled through her veins, making her warily eye the area around her. The sound of metal rattling and scraping against itself reached her ears as the light from the tube spilled onto her form as it thundered passed her. Lilian waited for it to stop, before pressing the button and getting on. The eeriness hadn't melted from her completely as once again, there was nobody on the tube.

"Maybe, it's because of the storm?" She mused to herself nervously, taking a seat near the middle of the tube before it took off once more. Her stop was about two stops away, having promised to meet up with a friend at Charing Cross. The lights didn't begin to flicker until the first station. Sighing, Lilian dug around in her bag for the flashlight and was about to turn it on when it slipped from her grasp. She dived for it as it rolled and rattled, stopping in the middle of the carriage. Her fingers had barely made it around the grip when the tube was plunged into pure darkness.

"Oh god," Lilian felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up as well as the slight sheen of cold sweat that had broken out across her forehead. The comforting movement of going forward had halted, leaving her alone in the blackness, "Oh god no." The panic had seeped into her body now, making her limbs tremble as she went to switch her flashlight on. It made an audible fizzle and refused to work.

"No, no, no," She hissed under her breath, banging it against the metal flooring, "Please work, please work." She gave up after the fifth try, and tossed it aside hurriedly to try locate her phone in her bag. There was no service. A creak made her freeze, that familiar sweeping cold licked at her as she began hearing the ruffling of paper and the shuffle of shoes. Eyes wide, she gazed into the darkness to look for a figure. Her heart was in her throat, pounding loud and fearfully as the thought of someone walking up the tube to kill her popped into her mind. Pressing the back of her hand to her lips, she felt blindly behind her for the pole that usually was near the door. Whispers were making their way to her ears now, too soft to be recognisable yet too loud for her to be mistaken. The sounds were getting louder now, drowning out the whine that escaped her throat. Fingers wrapped tightly around the metal pole, she tried to drag herself up to her feet.

Lilian clenched her eyes closed, breathing in and out deeply to try calm the rising waves of terror to a manageable state. She could stay in dark spaces for the most part, as long as she knew there would be a way out of them eventually. Right now, she was stuck in the dark underground of London, with no service and a phone that refused to even turn on at this point. She could taste the bile at the back of her throat, burning into her tongue. There was static in the air now, prickling at her skin in a way that felt like sinking into water. It encased her, suffocated her, brought a new level of panic as she could feel herself on the verge of tears.

Lilian didn't know when it had happened, in fact looking back on it she never would. Like emerging from underwater, the noises exploded to life and swirled around her as a red tint soaked through her eyelids. The jostle of the tube was back and she was being shoved backwards as it moved. Snapping her eyes open, she expected to see the empty carriages.

"Are you alright, love?"

A yelp tore from her as she spun around to face a man. He was dressed in a suit, brown and speckled in colour like his hair. A grey handkerchief peeked from his chest pocket as he leaned down slightly to address her. Lilian felt her mouth dry up as she glanced around, doing a full circle to survey her environment. Eyes were glued to her form, some wide from what she could only ascertain as shock, and others in fear as their hosts angled themselves as far from her as they could.

People. There were  _people_.

She watched with baited breath as shoes shuffled, and newspaper pages were turned. A numbing calmness stretched over then, smothering the hysteria that was bubbling to the surface. Her sight flickered back to the man currently staring at her like she was some form of wild bird. His hand was outstretched to take hers, almost like he was luring her into conversation with him. She probably would have taken his offer if she didn't catch the flash of a camera going off from next to him. Recoiling, she took a step back.

"Don't mind him, we just want a quick word," He tried to amend, eating up the distance she had tried to put between them, "That was quite a publicity stunt you pulled just there, I'm impressed."

"What?" Lilian could feel the tube door button pressing into her back as she held her hands up in an effort for some more space. There was something in his glint that looked malicious with a hidden intent.

"Come now girly, no need to be so afr-"

The tube came to a stop then and without thinking she spun and violently slammed her palm on the button, and ran onto the station platform, pushing through the throngs of people that were itching to get on the carriage. She heard the man shout again, something about an interview, before she broke into a sprint up the stairs. Nobody seemed too bothered by her haste, all moving subtly out of her way in the typical British manner. The first thing she noticed when she burst into the late-night air was the lack of thunder or lightning that had become so common in London. The people bustling behind her funnelled to her left and right, tutting. Finding it within herself to flush, Lilian took a few shaky steps so she was standing at the traffic lights.

A group of women passed her then, all giggly and gangly in their flared trousers and bright colours. Mouth dropping open briefly, she eyed then as they went down into the underground. She watched the other people swirling around her, their clothes as if they were a picture straight out of a history book. A giggle broke through her then, short-lived and definitely too high in pitch to be authentic. She barely noticed the rain that started to shower her at that moment.

"Girly!"

A look over her shoulder showed the familiar man had gotten off the tube and was making his way towards her. Lilian felt her adrenaline levels rising again as she turned on her heel and ran. His voice could still be made out as she made her way around a corner and down a familiar street. Light posts dotted the sides of the road, all illuminated except for a cluster that was just a further up ahead. The man was still on her tail, although a good twenty paces behind her. She needed a place populated enough, yet not as open as where she was before if she was going to call for help. Her breathing was uneven now, her heartbeat beating erratically as she scanned the buildings to her left.

"We just want a-!"

"Go away!" She yelled into the wind, still running. He shouted something in reply but Lilian was too far gone to even consider listening. Her eyes were on their second scan when the broken light posts suddenly turned on, casting a warm glow on the entrance to what she could only guess was a pub. Its sign waved at her, the words Leaky Cauldron niggling at the back of her mind. Stopping proved harder than she thought possible as she skidded on the wet pavement, her knees and hands taking a blunt onslaught of cement before she pushed herself up and grabbed onto the door handle. It didn't take much force to open, in fact it seemed like it swung open for her of its own free will as she hurriedly stepped inside.

The chatter from inside was shushed as she slammed the door, her back to it as she sunk down onto the warm wooden floorboards. She could hear the pounding of feet outside, the curse that was thrown out, and the sound of footsteps retreating back up the street. Lilian knew the people inside were staring, but as she felt the last bit of adrenaline leave her system she couldn't find it within herself to care. There was deathly silence and she supposed it was justified. She'd bled through her jeans, and had left two handprints on the door from the ripped-up flesh across her palm. Her hair was wet and stringy, sticking to her face.

Lilian looked up from her position on the ground, locking eyes with the owner who she would later know to be a man called Tom, "Can I have a table for one, please?"

* * *

It had taken three cups of tea and an impossible long trip to the bathroom to clean herself up before Lilian felt like asking questions. The overall atmosphere and aesthetic of the bar was definitely familiar, comforting in the strangest way with the plumes of smoke that would swirl from a stranger's lips before floating up to the wooden ceiling. Hands rubbing comforting circles on her thighs, Lilian smiled shyly at Tom who had come to bring another fresh pot of warm water. There was a selection of tea bags on the table he had ushered her to after her abrupt entrance, a quick method of getting her out of the paying customers.

"And you say these men were following you?" Tom asked, a frown marring his face as he eyed the shaken girl.

"Well," She paused to find the right words, "They ran after me from the station to just outside your bar. They were taking pictures of me and asking me to go and have a chat with them, I got scared and ran."

Sighing with understanding, he went to reajust a strap on his apron, "You really don't seem like you're from around, are you?"

"Actually yeah, I am," Lilian simpered, a shy smile gracing her lips that pressed to the rim of her mug for a sip, "Just not from these parts it would seem."

A nod and a hum came from the man who shifted his attention to the table, taking a cloth out from seemingly thin air to wipe down some of the wet spots. There was a spark of energy in the air here, she mused, it was warm and alive as the chatter filled the atmosphere once more. Lilian couldn't help but stare at the clothes and wonder if the long robes were a trademark fad for the end of summer. She never did understand fashion. They were definitely ugly, she thought as she eyed a particularly dowdy orange one a lady was wearing as she sweeped herself to the bar for another drink.

"I'd suppose you would go to Hogwarts then, yeah?"

Lilian snorted, reaching out for her tea cup that had been filled mysteriously, "Uh sure, what self respecting Londoner wouldn't?" The sarcasm lacing her words didn't seem to have much of an effect on the bartender who continued to wipe away at some invisible spill.

"I was a Hufflepuff myself," Tom leaned on his one arm that was pressed to the table, "Would've made Prefect if I had done better at Charms."

The amusement on the girl's face brightened at that, going for another sip of milky tea from her cup. She watched as the man suddenly got up and hurried off, coming back a minute later with a folded newspaper wedged in the crook of his elbow.

"Unfortunate about Professor Maridweather now, isn't it?" Tom opened the paper to the right page before sliding it on the table for Lilian to read. She made it to the title before her mind lagged, eyes caught and locked on the moving picture that had a man, seemingly saying something as cameras flashed in front of him, "Resigned after mysteriously falling down the Grand Staircase, I mean, how did he even  _manage_  it? One or two I can understand, but  _seven floors?"_

The tea in her mouth had frozen along with her ability to function, the bartender too stuck in his musings to really notice the sudden fear and disbelief that had rendered his customer unresponsive. Placing her teacup on the saucer shakily, Lilian slid her hand beneath the newspaper bundle and drew it closer.

"Oh my  _god_."

"Yeah, I know," Tom nodded, "Unbelievable the people they hire nowadays."

Lilian nodded robotically, feeling a wave of hysteria crawling up her neck that threatened to bubble over. She began riffling through the newspaper then, effectively putting a stop to the conversation. Tom had noticed the sudden stifle from her end and simply given a smile before moving to take the order of an orange-cloaked lady, loudly asking from a shot of whiskey. Fingers flying and running over the moving pictures, she scanned the titles as well as dates and could have screamed.

"August 26th, 1977," She breathed, a manic laugh escaping her, "No way. No fucking way."

Lilian could feel herself starting to panic, her mind already beginning to race through possible scenarios and theories on what was happening. It was unprobable that she had passed out in the tube, that much could be ruled out from the pain still radiating from her scraped up kneecaps. Was this someone's sick idea of a joke? Looking up, Lilian was just able to spot the woman being served brandish a long, wooden stick and wave it. A hat from across the room came zooming to her, floating seemingly in mid-air as it twired before settling itself on her head.

"I've gone mad."


	2. 1977

Calming draughts were blue and tasted exactly how Lilian expected them to – terrible. She fingered at one of the shortbreads squares she had ordered, preferring to eat the remaining panic and disbelief away than make a scene. Her initial freak out had lasted around ten minutes before Tom had noticed and took pity on her, bringing a heavy helping of the glowing potion to her table. Apparently shotting it made the taste more bearable.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Lilian muttered to herself hopelessly, resting her cheek on the wooden surface as her eyes followed the remaining customers who swayed on their feet. She needed a plan, a way of making sure she had a place to stay for the night as well as a job for the foreseeable future. There wasn't much sense in holding onto hope about returning to her own reality considering she knew nothing about doing it.

The door to the Leaky Cauldron opened, letting a cheerful ding into the air as a trio of men walked in and to the booth opposite hers. Lilian supposed she could ask Tom about giving her a chance at waitressing. Glancing at the man from the corner of her eye, she crossed out that idea. He didn't seem like the type to let an underage girl work in his bar. Leaning back in her chair, she pushed a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. She sighed, catching the stare of one of the men from the table opposite her.

It wasn't so much his appearance that made him familiar, but the glint flashing off of his moon-shaped spectacles. Frowning at the niggling sensation that probed at the back of her mind, Lilian broke eye contact and went back to stuffing shortbread fingers in her mouth. The sound of a chair scraping as it got pushed back was what brought her attention back, now firmly stuck to the robed wizard that was making his way to her booth.

"I must admit," He started with a sombre smile, "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Blinking owlishly at him, Lilian bobbed her head slowly as if she understood what he was saying to her, "Yes?"

"I can't seem to tell whether you're a figment of my own imagination or guilt."

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Lilian admitted gently, careful not to come across as rude, "I've never seen you before, have we met?"

The stranger seemed to stall at her words, the space between his eyebrows beginning to furrow slightly as he assessed her, "Miss Evans?"

She shook her head, "My name is Eoghans. Lilian Eoghans."

"Oh, my mistake then, Miss Eoghans," He said, "You wouldn't happen to be related to a Lily Evans, would you? The resemblance is almost," He paused before adding softly, "Well, it's identical."

Lilian perked at the name, eyeing the stranger with interest. She entertained the idea of saying yes, wondering why the man would feel guilty towards the-boy-who-lived's mother. "Can I ask who you are? It's a bit strange talking to somebody who I don't even know the name of."

"My apologies, Miss Eoghans," He reached a hand out for her to shake, "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

It was unfortunate that Lilian had taken another bite of the shortbread, gasping mid-chew which caused a hacking fit. Rushing for her tea, she managed to knock the cup over before finally washing the stubborn biscuit down the right tube.

"Sorry, sorry," She gave a final cough, "I'm okay. I'm alive."

"I surely hope so," Dumbledore gave a soft smile as his eyes strayed to the currently lid-less teapot, "I see you enjoy your tea with a slice of lemon."

"It makes it-"

"Taste stronger, yes. I used to know someone who drank it like that too."

Lilian could only nod, still slightly starstruck at the famous wizard in front of her.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Miss Eoghans, but I must get back to my dinner partners," He gave her a warm smile before turning on his heel and starting on his way back to his table. Lilian nibbled on her bottom lip as she watched him sit down, the wheels in her mind already turning in full motion.

Dumbledore was supposed to be the good guy throughout the books, battling for what he believed was right despite his many flaws. He could help her, she knew that, but she also knew he had a habit of sacrificing people for the 'greater good.' If she told him everything she was seriously risking her own neck, knowing already that an anomaly from another reality was the last thing anybody in both the magic and non-magic world would accept and try to help. Lilian was alone in this time; her parents were born in the early seventies and what would her grandparents think if she showed up claiming to be their toddler's kid? Nobody would believe her and she would have wasted both her time and effort in even attempting. Friends were another issue, none of them having been born earlier than the mid-nineties. Lilian could feel another round of tears blurring her vision as she looked down at her laced fingers, playing with them in an attempt to distract herself.

She couldn't trust anybody, and whilst Tom had been nothing but accommodating and helpful she was only a customer that he hoped would come again. He had an ulterior motive to be nice. Dumbledore really was her only option right now, she realised with a sense of defeat and determination. She could tell him a censored version of events and leave the Harry Potter issue for another time.

Swallowing her nerves, Lilian pushed herself out the chair and made her way towards the trio of men currently at the table. Dumbledore was the last to look up from his drink, his head cocking to the side as he watched her approach.

"Sorry, but I think I might need your help."

* * *

Dumbledore had booked a room on the second floor, a couple of doors down from where he was planning to stay for the night. He hadn't really given Lilian a choice in the matter, not that she would refuse all things considered. After paying for her tea and biscuits, as well as the calming draught she didn't even have enough money left for a bus ride to Goodge Street. It was with an awkward grace that she hadn't burst into tears when he had offered to pay for her room, even going so far as to conjure up a spare set of clothes for her before she was ushered into her room and told to change. There was a bathroom to the left of the room, blocked off by a rather mouldy door that creaked when she entered.

Dumbledore calmly spoke to her through the piece of wood that separated them, engaging in basic small talk as she slipped into the dark, woollen jumper and knee-skirt that she was given. They were too big for her, but anything was better than her blood-speckled jeans and sweat-stained shirt. A quick splash of water to the face and she was feeling more herself.

"If I were a fruit I would probably be an apple: basic, but a classic," Lilian answered, smiling slightly at the strange questions that were being thrown her way, "Very good in pies."

"I suspect a strawberry in my case, albeit my reasoning is purely because I enjoy them." Dumbledore spoke from his seat beside the window, turning to watch as she sat cross-legged on the bed where she nodded along to his words.

"That's fair," She propped a knee under her chin and wrapped her arms around her leg, "I mean at least you didn't say kiwi."

"Do you dislike kiwi?"

"It's a fruit with fur. Nothing good can come from that."

"Indeed," A sparkle in his eyes seemed to be dying out and rekindling itself every few answers she gave, "Would a peach be along the same lines in your mind?"

"A peach has fuzz, that's different."

A hum of amusement left the wizard, an eyebrow raised as he closed the conversation with a simple controlled glance out of the window to the grey clouds and fog that had descended upon the world outside. There were small drops of water on the glass, rolling down whenever they got too fat. Lilian glanced around the room again, noticing the way the theme of dark and gloomy reflected in every piece of furniture. The brightest thing in the room was the painting of an underwater city hanging across from the bed, made with gem tones of blue and green.

"Can I ask why you needed to see me, Miss Eoghans?"

Lilian couldn't help the scrunch of her nose at the name, wondering why he insisted on using her surname. She had asked him to call her Lilian, or even Lily if it meant the formality could be dropped. Blowing a strand of her fringe out of her eyes, she looked up at the dingy chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

"Believe it or not I'm trying really hard to not freak out again right now, so this might not make much sense." She spoke, feeling the tentative eyes on her. Her thoughts went back to the train, wondering if it was possible that she concussed herself to the point of hallucinating. Dreaming had been ruled out, her torn up palms stinging enough for her to check it off the possibility list.

Dumbledore nodded along to her, encouraging her to continue whatever she was about to string together to explain herself. He brandished his wand and flicked it slightly, a silver tray floating from the corner of the room and into his lap, "Might I suggest tea to calm the nerves?"

"I think I've had enough for tonight, thanks," Lilian smiled, "Although I wouldn't turn down something a bit stronger."

"The legal age is eighteen, Miss Eoghans," The teapot poured itself into the chipped china, "Although I might turn a blind eye just this once."

The girl watched him take a sip of his steaming drink, feeling her gut churn with every passing second. It was logical to see that Dumbledore would help her, but if he would believe her after this was another story completely. Looking towards the vanity, she spotted a familiar bottle of whiskey, already open and poured into a glass for her. It floated across the room and into her hands accompanied by a wink from the wizard. Throwing a grateful smile, she drank it in one go.

"I guess I can start with the fact that I'm not from this time. I'm from almost fifty years in to the future," Lilian started, refusing to catch the man's stare, "All I know is that I took the seven-fifteen tube to Charing Cross and somehow ended up….  _here_."

"I see," He took another sip, "I assume this wasn't something you did intentionally?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start, if I'm honest. I didn't even know magic was a thing until today."

"And yet you managed to enter the Leaky Caldron."

"It's not like it was hidden away or something," Lilian frowned. The door had seemingly melted into existence now that she thought back on it, "Was it?"

The clink of the teacup on the saucer was accompanied by Dumbledore clearing his throat, "The Leaky Cauldron only materialises in front of witches and wizards, a non-witch or non-wizard would see an abandoned and rundown building. It's very possible that your sudden time travelling has changed more than just the era you're in."

Flopping back onto the bed, Lilian glanced at the ceiling and the multiple cracks that ran from one corner to the other, "You're taking this a lot better than I did. Does this mean you believe me?"

"I'm not sure, Miss Eoghans," He started, "Time travel is usually only done using a Time Turner and even then, the most one can go back is a week. The fact you claim to be from so far in the future is something I'm having trouble believing without proof."

"Are you serious?" She sat up with a drawl, "You can levitate a tea tray, materialise clothing from thin air and yet  _my_ story seems impossible?"

"You have to draw the line somewhere I'm afraid,"

"Can you draw it a bit further down the line then? I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do if you don't help me, let alone  _believe_ me."

"I never said I didn't believe you, merely struggling to wrap my mind around it as a possibility," He calmly spoke, a faint grin spread across his face at the fiery girl in front of him, "It does strike me as a little strange that you chose me to ask for help from. You had no guarantee that I would do anything."

Lilian couldn't hide how her eyes widened, "I assumed you would, you work as a Headmaster don't you? Aren't you supposed to help wayward children?" The lie was rough and she hoped it would work. She wasn't entirely sure how he would take it if she let him know he was a character in one of her favourite book series. He seemed to accept her response, nodding to himself at the apparent logic behind it.

"As flattered as I am, I'm unsure of how you want me to help you."

"I don't know either, Professor," She admitted, pulling at a strand of hair nervously. What was she going to do now? She supposed her highest priority at the moment was to just get by, have a job with enough money for food and a roof over her head.

The look Dumbledore gave her then had been cleared of the comforting and calm mistiness and traded for a clearer and calculating look. Lilian felt like she was being examined, her appearance as well as story running around his mind as he tried to come up with the solution to whatever question he had come up with.

"I must say," He finally said, "Your arrival most definitely solves a few problems, yet creates more as well."

"Sorry," Lilian found herself saying, too exhausted at this point to realise she was apologising for something that wasn't even her fault. Her hair was now sticking up at odd angles, dishevelled from the constant tugs and fingers raking through it. The calming draught Tom had brought her was wearing off already, having done its job for nearly two hours at this stage.

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose at her comment, "This is something beyond a single person's fault, in fact I would think ultimately your presence in this world is linked to the deceased Lily Evans."

Lilian froze at that, her eyes snapping to the greying man, mouth opened in horror and disbelief, "I'm sorry,  _what?_  Lily Evans is  _dead?"_

The sullen look on the Headmaster's face aged him ten years, the overall despair at losing such a promising student as well as someone so young apparent in his slouched shoulders.

"Miss Evans was found dead a few hours ago, her body was on Hogwarts grounds," He explained carefully, watching as the girl in front of him began to turn an unattractive shade of grey, "Her exact time of death seems to match with the time of your arrival. The moment a girl dies is also when another is thrown into our time, both identical enough to be twins."

His voice had become rather wispy and forlorn towards the end, a sign he was trying to figure something out himself. Lilian felt the tell-tale of panic bubbling in her stomach again, piercing and jabbing at the faux calm that still lingered in her veins.

"It's suspicious if nothing else, you must admit. The death of a student is something Hogwarts takes seriously," He leaned forward in his chair, "and your appearance makes me dubious as to the meaning behind it."

"But…. But she  _can't_ be dead. She's Lilian Evans! She's supposed to marry James and," Lilian sunk a hand into her hair, "oh my god."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," She could feel herself close to tears as she realised just what the death of her supposed doppelganger meant, "Nothing. Sorry, just thinking."

"Perhaps, you were meant to travel back in time," He got up and sat beside her, "Or maybe it's unfortunate luck that Miss Evans has passed."

"I don't think I'm following," Lilian lied, hoping she was wrong about where this conversation was going. Her skin was damp behind her neck from her muted panic, the immediate need to run becoming louder and louder with every word that tumbled from the wizard's mouth. It felt like static had settled permanently underneath her skin as he spoke the words she was dreading to hear.

Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it for comfort, "Nobody has been notified of her death except for myself and a few House Elves. It would appear that assimilating yourself into her life would be the best option for you right now."

Lilian felt sick. Not from the idea, but the fact she was actually considering it. She was alone in this time, any hope of family or friends coming to her rescue shattered. Her purse was already empty, save for a few coins and she had no place to stay after tonight. Lily Evans had a circle of friends, family, and more importantly would be safe under Dumbledore's eye. Lily's life was already shaped with at least four years left before she was supposed to die by Voldemort's hands, so would it be that bad to step in? She would have that time to figure out how to survive on her, and if she was lucky how to get back to her own reality. Every moral reason to not go through with it was immediately shut down by a more pressing need to survive in her new surroundings. She couldn't help but feel hopeless, knowing already what she would say. It made sense now that she was always sorted into Slytherin, Lilian mused with a bitterness that made its way to her pale face.

"You don't have to give me your answer tonight, but I must ask you to have one by the morning," Dumbledore spoke softly, reading the sudden shift in her mood and posture, "Goodnight, Miss Eoghans."

Lilian didn't sleep well that night.


End file.
